Still Breathing
by high.fiving.jesus
Summary: I didn't want to be safe. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be who I was, and the blind sight was tearing me down. A boy who can't see.
1. Chapter 1

**.:Still Breathing:.**

Written by: High Fiving Jesus

_Typed: October 1, 2010-October 3, 2010_

**.:.: .:.:.:.:. :.:.**

My back slammed into the locker. The cheers roared in my ears as my sunglasses were knocked off of my face. Some people caught on, giving out some soothing gasps. I had to have someone on my side by now. The young man in front of me, whether he was muscular I didn't know, presented a cracking sound, like crunching plastic. I had heard that before. Cracking knuckles. It was used as a sign of dominance, but I took it as a hazing tactic.

It's hard to be a man.

"I'm gonna grind your face into mince meat," he growled, his voice a low rumbling. I pressed my hands against the lockers. Shocks went through my fingers as he walked towards me.

I sucked in air and waited, just drawing myself in closer to the barrier of my escape. He laughed, noticing my nervous tick. The vibrations in my finger tips grew stronger and I braced myself. The contact of skin to skin never came though. A high frequency vibe shot through the cool metal behind me and a feminine voice broke through the crowd.

"Stop!" she cried. For a scary moment, I feared for her.

Luckily, all noise _did_ stop and someone grabbed my wrist. I tried to pull away but they insisted and dragged me away from the battle zone. I couldn't fight them off, not knowing where I was going or who was tugging me behind. I tried to imagine a face, or what I thought one would look like. What were imperfections on a face? Every face should never be taken for granted—what if you never saw it again?

I yanked my hand back and reached out, finding them. I felt across their smooth nose, possibly narrow, and crossed over their eyelids. And in what others called a movie moment, I expected a beautiful girl. But I could never judge anyone—what was beautiful to me?—and maybe that's why I was referred to as innocent. Because personalities and a person's aura told me whether they were slender, rarely caring for themselves, or if they were obese kids obsessing over themselves so much. That was what getting a big head was; it came with the figure. And if they had a kind face, where they rarely uttered a cruel word on someone else. Maybe this person had multiple imperfections because they just wanted to make the blow on me them self.

I was even more disappointed when a masculine goat voice brayed in my ear. "It's me."

I dropped my hands and felt my way towards the wall. I jammed my fingers on the metal and cursed in Greek. "Where are my glasses?" I asked him, leaning against the wall. I could still work with the façade I had put up as long as I acted calm about it and confused when the questions were stuffed into my mind.

"They're still back there," he mumbled, probably ashamed he had forgotten them when he rescued me. I couldn't be mad at him, though. In all honesty, he should've been mad at me for ditching him in the bathroom, even accidentally. "What were you thinking, Perce?"

I shrugged and leaned casually against the locker doors, listening to the shuffle of feet and teenagers laughing at each other. "I was trying to find a stall."

The mood around him stiffened, and then he let out a weary chuckle, "Percy, as your protector and best friend, I couldn't let you do that. You'd miss." He teased and a warmth rose to my cheeks. He meant it humorously, but it was true and it bothered me. I hated depending on others for everything. The thought of having to have some follow me, constantly, making sure I didn't trip or… miss; it horrified me.

The smarter thing for me to do was just use my walking stick, or a guide dog, but my disability would become obvious. And I knew that someone would use that against me, causing harm to my mentality and physicality. I had hid the disadvantage for awhile—and I couldn't remember what people looked like— and quite well, if I may say so, but it had caused a lot of stress on my family and friends.

I was doing all I could to be one hundred percent independent. It just wasn't working perfectly.

Another hand grabbed my wrist and I froze. I hated that uncertainty. I knew one day that my own imperfection was going to get me killed.

"Percy, I need to speak with you," my principal whispered calmly. I knew the tactic, to help unsure that I wouldn't freak out or hyperventilate. I nodded stiffly and pushed off of the wall, like I'd learned was natural for a guy. The thing that made me unsure was that I had learned this all from Grover, a satyr.

I stumbled down the hall with her, disconnecting us to prevent the awkward sense that I felt when everyone watched me, and turned my head 'glancing around' at the school. The hall was loud, like a roaring in my ears, and I tuned in to every conversation. It was true that when you lost your sight or another sense, the other four become fantastic. Phenomenal, if you will.

"What was the fight about?"

"Percy was an idiot and walked straight into Joel," a girl drawled, sighing in exasperation.

"He wants to die," the other whispered, giggling.

I furrowed my brow and kept going further down the hall. I felt trapped in such a confided box, that there was no escape. I didn't know how big the world was, where I could walk. For all I knew, I was floating on air or just about to fall down a flight of steps. I was contained in a place I didn't want to be.

My head bobbed forward as I ran into the backside of the principal. She apologized and there was a brief moment of silence. I backed away from her slowly, taking small steps.

"Watch it," some guy snapped. I stopped in spot.

The principal's mood went acerbic as she touched a lump of plastic to my chest. "Your glasses," she voiced, ensuring that no one heard her. I took them from her and ran my fingers along the arm of the glasses, pushing them over my eyes. She clicked her heel on the ground and I gave a short nod, starting to follow behind her I assumed. She clicked her heel every few steps to make sure I could follow her, and gave a double tap when we had come to the stairs.

My heart hammered, knowing it would mar me and be humiliating if I stumbled, and my hands were clammy. I searched for the railing, and, when I found it, slowly inched forward until my toes were perched airborne. No one had caught my odd movements before and I was hoping they didn't start.

I stepped down to the next step, and the one following, all-the-while gripping the paling for dear life. People shoved into me and I almost sprawled out on the ground but the principal kept me erect.

I stepped off the bottom of the staircase and relaxed my shoulders. The knot in my gut untied itself and the clamminess washed away. I continued following her clicks and my shoulder collided into a doorframe. She apologized again and helped me find a chair.

I had always imagined her as a short and stocky woman in her mid-forties with a brilliant smile and way to handle delinquents. Half of her bones were kind to her, while the other portion mistreated her. She spoke proudly with her soft, genuine voice.

"Percy, I have to suspend you for a few days," she managed, and I got the feeling that this was business-as-usual talk with just another student. "The fight has stirred up your classmates and I just want to help with your wishes. I've called your mother and she'll be—"

"I get it," I interrupted, not really wanting to reiterate the same drill again. I didn't need or want to hear about how I couldn't drive or how I couldn't do anything without my mother. Now, my mom is the coolest, kindest person in the world and she deserves the best, but going everywhere with my mother holding my hand every step of the way made me feel hopeless. I was embarrassed by it.

Another awkward silence and I assumed she had nodded, forgetting my inability to catch that detail.

I fidgeted in that chair, feeling down the arm and brushing the durable cushion. I ran my hand along the leg and the back of the chair and put the pieces together as best as I could, but I had a terrible imagination. I became discouraged and almost threw an inner tantrum, scolding myself, but a car horn burned from the outside.

I waited, gripping the arm tightly until my knuckles were numb. Footsteps pressed down on the lush carpet and stopped beside me. "Percy," my mom's voice was beside me, hanging in the air. She didn't reach down to touch me like others did. She knew it made me feel more lost then before. I stood up and followed her out, trying even more desperately to find the door by myself.

At night I heard my mom crying to Paul, my amazing step-father, about me. She tells him how I've changed since the accident that 'traumatized me'—according to one doctor—and how she doesn't think I should go to camp. She regrets getting rid of Gabe, and when she says that, I can sense the regret. Not from leaving him but from saying it. I feel my heart trembling when she talks about how much my loss affected her.

I took a minute to angle myself around to where I figured the door was and start forward. Almost five steps later, my mom called my name a little to the left and waited for me. My lips quirked up for a moment and I laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm a mess," I told her quietly. I sensed her false glee from my comment but I shrugged it off and walked with her to the car, slowly taking inch-long steps. She barely moved along with me and when I felt the cool breeze of the outside world on my cheeks, I picked up pace.

Cars swerved along the circle outside, picking up freshmen and juniors that don't have licenses, and I listened to them get louder as I stopped to stand beside the street. A bird chirped out in the distance and the sunrays soaked up the sky with warmth.

"You can go," my mom whispered discretely and I stepped off the curb, crossing the bent street. She fumbled with her keys and a car beeped in front of me. I put a hand on the hot metal and used it as a guide to the passenger door.

When we were in the car, my mom turned the radio volume as low down as possible, a faint mumbling still rumbling through the silence. "Percy, I talked to Paul today."

I nodded, keeping my head forward, catching every bump on the road and every honk of a horn as people sped by.

"You're going to camp," she said firmly, trying to accept the words from her mouth. I didn't believe her for a moment, from all the late night conversations, but she didn't object to it and her tone was so serious and tight.

I nodded, almost worried. How would they treat me when I told them?

Maybe I didn't have to.

"I want you to at least let Chiron know," she continued. I heaved a low sigh and leaned back in the seat, dropping my head on the rest.

"Why? So he can tell Mr. D—the god of loudmouths?" I muttered, not realizing that mother was probably giving me a look.

"No, Percy, so he can ensure that Clarisse won't try to maim you during Capture the Flag," she said. "In fact, I don't want you playing Capture the Flag at all, do you hear me? Not once."

Did I mention she was stricter on my limitations?

"Mom, I'm invulnerable to attack," I tried, pressing my luck.

"Just like you were invulnerable to that blade? Just like that, hmm?" She asked sharply, shaken up from thinking about it.

"That's not fair," I growled, crossing my arms forcefully across my chest. I bit my lower lip, trying to ignore her lecture about life not being fair, especially to a demigod and how she wanted me to just be safe.

I didn't want to be safe. I wanted to be normal.

I wanted to be who I was.

**A/N: Hi. I don't own Percy Jackson. That's my disclaimer for the whole story.**

**I wrote this without proof reading or spell check because I didn't want to forget (I tend to do that) and I'm going to be busy throughout the week. So, please don't get on my case about it too harshly.**


	2. Chapter 2

**.:Still Breathing:.**

Written by: High Fiving Jesus

_Typed: November 9, 2010_

**.:.: .:.:.:.:. :.:.**

I felt along the edge of the arm rest on the door until my fingers came across the two-way release for the window. I pressed down on the closest side and wind rushed at my face. My mother must've been going at least sixty, but I couldn't complain about it. She wanted me to get to camp before she could change her mind. I'd accept what I could.

The sounds and smells of New York filled the car and the hair on my arms tingled with a rush of adrenaline. Something about my hometown made me feel wired, hyped up. I loved the sensation it gave. Crowded coziness; it was impossible not to get to know your neighbor.

"Percy," my mother said around ten minutes after her snap about the incident. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"It's cool, mom," I assured her. I understood the maternal protective instinct; I knew my disability was a heavy toll on her, too. How could I get angry at her anxiousness? "When do I go to camp?"

She sat silently for a while, ignoring my question until we were at our apartment. She put the car in park and cut the engine, staying in her seat in utter quietness. There was a short sigh and the car door opened. Someone's gentle hand landed on my shoulder and baby's wail was cut short. The child giggled.

"Hey, Percy," Paul greeted, casually. I was unsure on whether he understood the situation or if he was trying out a psychiatrists' technique to make a patient consider themselves as normal, whatever that was. I was always just Percy; his super cool stepson and hero of Olympus. How many guys got to say that?

I nodded to him and got out of the car. The opposing door opened and shut quickly and my mom's shoes clicked as she stood next to Paul for a moment. I knew she was taking my little sister, Andromeda, from his grasp. My mother's shoes grew faint and I assumed she had went up to our apartment building.

The name Andromeda, people had asked me so many times. How could I explain to mere mortals? What was my name? Andromeda, in the old myths, was Perseus' wife. Weird, I know, but she was favored by Athena. My mother must've been searching for some favor from the goddess, considering she hated my guts.

"What happened?" Paul asked as he guided me towards the building with his hand on my shoulder. The position was demeaning but necessary. I refused to hold his hand; I was eighteen. We had developed an odd, no longer awkward, relationship. We had guy secrets and things we talked about that I couldn't discuss with my mother, but our guy secrets were different from the ones I kept with my old step father, Gabe Ugliano. Paul wouldn't harm me; he was a good guy.

"I asked when I was going to camp," I told him quietly as we tromped up stairs.

"Why in the world would you do that?" He asked with a character that told me it was a dim-witted moment to ask, but there was no anger or sign that he was upset with me. He opened the apartment door and pulled me in. "Never mind. Want me to pack for you?"

"I got it," I told him. The thought of Paul handling underclothes or trying to fold shirts was a frightening one. The man could cook, he could teach, he could not, however, clean or fold. If his occupation was to be a maid, we'd have serious issues.

I found my way into my room, cautious, nearly tripping on occasion, and felt along the wall. My closet door appeared under my palm and I pulled it open. A pre-packed suitcase rested at the back of the closet, hiding from my mother. I didn't want her to cry if I let her know how much I missed Camp Half-Blood or to get upset that I was anxious to leave. My mom was a strong woman; she didn't cry over anything; but recently it doesn't take much to hurt her feelings.

I lugged my suitcase down the staircase to my room and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. My sister was crying, and I was sure my parents were talking in their room. I released my suitcase and leveled my hand over the air. I barely moved my feet; I soon came to realize that she wasn't on the floor. I walked into the back of the couch, with a silent curse, and search the cushions until I crossed over Andromeda. She sniffled and grabbed my hand with her meaty fingers.

I picked her up and propped her on my hip. I shushed her and tried to lull her back to sleep. The task proved difficult as she soon found my hair more interesting. I bit my lip at every tug, not sure if it actually hurt or if I was just frustrated with my life. I needed to get to Camp or I'd go insane.

"Percy," my mother called, vibrations pulsing through the floor as she walked towards me. "Here" She took Andromeda from my hands and I felt like the toddler that the adults didn't trust with the baby. Like I would drop her or ram her into a wall a few times to see if she would cry. I was brought down to the level of a child.

My mother cooed to the baby and put an odd tone in her voice, like she'd rather be asleep, but just as she'd done with me, there were no complaints. She just went on with her daily business, cleaning up toys and shuffling papers. I sat on the couch and cursed in my head. She focused on Andromeda so much and she ignored me whenever my sister was around.

Guilt consumed my chest in a tight grip. She was dealing with a blind son of Poseidon and a young mortal daughter; she was writing a novel; unpacking boxes after we moved into our new apartment. How could I get angry?

"Percy," my mom said, papers still shuffling in the background. "We're leaving for camp. Come on, sweetie." A soft hand grabbed my own and pulled me up, dragging me towards the door. My mom stopped for a second and called to Paul to grab my bag for me.

She pulled me from room to room, different smells in each and unique sounds that I had recognized over time. The dining room smells of brownies and blueberries, the entrance to our apartment had drapes over a window that was never closed during the day, providing a stirring gentle sound, the elevator, with its grinding gears and pulleys working on overload under the weight of human flesh. The outside air was thicker and only modestly warmer than the inside of our apartment.

My mom's keys jingled in her hand that had been holding mine and a beep joined in with the other sounds of New York. She put her small hand on my back and led me towards the car, as she always needed to do, allowing my takeover once we reached the vehicle. I got in the car and buckled in a normal routine.

Andromeda was strapped in, Paul was struggling with putting my bag in the trunk of the car, and mom was going with the flow, rolling with the punches, as she started up the car. I assumed Paul got in the seat behind mine, though I didn't understand why.

I sat silently for a majority of the ride, letting my mom go on about what she expected. She wanted me to know that she wasn't expecting any contact between me, seeing as it would be difficult, but she knew I was going to try anyways. I couldn't sit in camp and not think about or talk to my mom. She ran her hand through my hair and I smiled. It was something I had always found comfort in. My mom was just so good.

"And, Percy, if you do decide to tell _anyone_," she told me. I knew she meant Annabeth and I tensed. I could trust Annabeth, I knew I could. I already trusted her with my life, but it was embarrassing. The great Percy Jackson going blind even with invulnerability? It couldn't have happened in a million years, but it did.

"Mom," I said, practically whining. I didn't want to tell anyone; she knew that. Why even bother?

"Alright," she sighed, pulling her hand away from me. The ride from then on was only Paul entertaining my sister, telling the tall tales of Percy Jackson. Only the parts suitable, which I assumed were down to every detail he knew considering she couldn't understand him. He talked about seeing Olympus and the whole war, the admittance, the moment he discovered our secret world living underneath the very skin of his. Great detail was processed through his mouth and into all of our ears.

The car slowed to a stop and I quickly unbuckled my seat belt, my heart holding a certain yearning for the place that had made me, my home. The only haven in the world for a kid like me. The scent of pines wafted towards me as I opened the car door.

"Percy, do you want Paul to get your bags?" my mom asked. I told her I could handle it and to lay off and everything a teenager said, but I didn't mean it. When she asked if I wanted assistance, I felt like a normal kid. She was giving me an option: be dependent or do it yourself. I wanted so much for the latter that I nearly tripped getting out of the car. No one tried to stop me from falling, because they knew I didn't want the help. I managed to steady myself and laughed, embarrassed.

With my hand on the car, I trailed my way to the trunk, popping it open and pulling out my bag as soon as I had a grip on it. I felt for the zipper and pulled the bag open, reaching in for the sunglasses that should've been right on top. I thanked Poseidon that they were and covered my eyes.

My mom was calling out goodbyes and be-good's like they were all she could say. I could feel her worry and tension as I zipped up my bag. I took a step and hesitated. Where was I? Was I walking the right way? Maybe I should've turned around? Camp was probably on my side of the car.

I could feel my neck temperature collide, hot on cold. My hands started clamming up and I was taking in shallow breaths. Panic surged through me. My mind started over-processing every sound I heard, every smell, every movement. A car door quickly released a passenger and a hand met my shoulder.

"Percy, calm down," Paul told me. Was it that noticeable? "You're going the right way."

My shoulders relaxed and I inhaled once, shaking my head. My body was already physically drained; it didn't take much anymore. Paul put an arm around my shoulder casually, I assumed, and let me towards Half-Blood Hill, laughing as he went.

"Annabeth just showed up," he whispered and I put on a smile. Someone ran straight into me, full force, and brought us both to the ground as Paul quickly released me. She apologized numerous times.

"You need to start lifting weights," Annabeth teased, grabbing my arm. I sat up and rubbed the back of my head. "Can't even stand up right."

"Yeah, I guess I just lost my touch," I said, trying for enthusiasm but coming out with shaky words. I wasn't sure if she noticed, though it was almost certain…

"Come on," she said, her voice a little less excited, just calm as always. "Chiron's been expecting you. He got an IM from your mom. What was it about?"

I nearly cursed out loud and shook my head. Mom had told him already? Was it not my job? "Uh, nothing," I managed. "Probably about my dad or something." I didn't feel too bad about lying, I had done it often, but the guilt intensified as the lie was fed to Annabeth.

She was silent for a moment and I knew she was looking me over, but I stood up and Paul handed me my bag. He grabbed my arm and began walking with me until my mom called him back, almost at the borderline. When he had left, Annabeth asked:

"What was that about?"

"What?" I tried for obliviousness.

"Paul practically led you up here," she told me, sounding unsure of herself. For a moment, I didn't have an answer to supply, but I luckily didn't need one. I heard the distinct sound of hooves, like mallets on the ground, coming towards us. I thanked Chiron for his sudden appearance. A hand from somewhere above me landed on my shoulder.

"Hello, my boy," he said, with a relieved tone. I could sense him trying to cover this feeling with a relaxed quality, but I knew Annabeth. She could sense it also, and it was only a matter of time before she started asking questions. "Let's head down to the Big House. Annabeth, my dear, do you mind checking on the Hephaestus cabin? Jake Mason…" he trailed off and Annabeth's presence left my side. She got the hint.

I shouldered my back pack and pushed my sunglasses back onto my head. We started walking downhill towards the rest of camp. The walk was quiet, like Chiron really didn't know what to say. He warned me of the steps when we reached them and he pulled out a chair for me to sit on. I set my back pack on the ground next to me.

"Your mother and I had an interesting conversation only a few minutes ago," he started. A whirring sound buzzed faintly in my ears, and I narrowed my eyes, trying to distinguish the noise. Chiron must've caught my look because he said, "It's the wheelchair."

I had never noticed the sound before, nor was I sure of how he had been able to.

"Tell me how it's possible," he requested. The way he was speaking made me think, maybe he already had a hunch.

I relayed the experience, the pain, everything I remembered from that night. Someone had once told me that the occurrence had made my mind shut out all memories, anything that would trigger something about that night. Apparently, an accident causing blindness could be very traumatizing for a person. I never would've guessed.

Chiron heaved an exhausted sigh. "A quest may be in order."

**I've thought of changing the summary. Any suggestions? What would attract **_**you**_** to this story?**


	3. Chapter 3

**.:Still Breathing:.**

Written by: High Fiving Jesus

_Typed: November 18, 2010_

**.:.: .:.:.:.:. :.:.**

"A quest?" I asked myself, sitting in the Poseidon cabin, on my bunk. I rubbed the back of my neck, exhausted and frustrated. I didn't want to go on another quest; I didn't want to risk my life. It was even for a personal matter; why should I bother Rachel for something like that? What was the purpose?

I laid back on my mattress and thought, my hands under my head. What use was I on a quest anyways? What could I do for anyone? Maybe I could be the distraction, running into trees and tripping over my own feet. Yeah, the monsters would have a field day with that. I groaned and covered my face with my arm.

Someone sat next to me on my bunk, but I didn't move. They put a hand on my abdomen. "Perce, you don't have to go on a quest."

My mouth quirked up into a smile. I put my hand on top of hers and turned my head towards the sound of her voice. "Chiron wants me to go; it's important. To me."

Her hand yanked away from mine and she touched my face. "Percy…" I waited for her to say something encouraging when a strike of terror traveled up my spine. I had messed up. I turned my head away from her hand and cursed in my head. How could I pull such a bonehead move? "What happened?"

I ignored her and sat up, pulling my knees closer, and resting my face in my hands. I wasn't as good as I had assumed. Kids at school were stupid, Annabeth was observant. I was about to earn an earful for keeping my disability to myself. I waited for the lecture.

"_What—happened_?" she asked again, her voice thick and concerned.

"Nothing," I told her through my palms. I was a screw up; how did that happen? I had never messed up, at least not as quickly as I had with Annabeth. She grabbed my wrists and pulled them away from my eyes; I allowed her to turn my head towards her. I couldn't fight her off.

"Nothing?" she asked incredulously. "Percy, are you—"

She cut off and I could feel the fear. She didn't want to say it; I didn't enjoy the word's taste much, either. Saying it would only draw her closer to the truth, and maybe this once, she didn't want to know what was happening. I made myself promise that when I went on the quest, I wouldn't take her. I couldn't.

I shut my eyes, noting that it really didn't make any difference, it only felt off. I lowered my head, not wanting her to stay, looking into my eyes anymore.

"Percy, I want to know," she said quietly.

I hesitated; why did she want so badly for me to tell her outright? Couldn't she just assume and move on with life? I didn't want to admit it, I couldn't form the words. I couldn't think of what to say. My throat was drying out and sand filled my mouth. I felt like someone had just pulled open a curtain in a changing room—exposed, embarrassed. It was embarrassing.

"Percy," she asked. Her voice was desperate, she barely used that tone.

"Yes, Annabeth!" I snapped. "Yes! I am, okay?"

There was a silence, stunning and new, before she stood up from my side. I couldn't tell what she was doing, but I guessed pacing was a part of her actions. She was thinking, trying to form ideas. All I could do was wait, until she calmed down, I wasn't sure. What was I waiting for?

I waited, I couldn't decipher the time, how long had I been there? Suddenly, without my anticipation, Annabeth was pushing me back onto my mattress. I didn't find myself arguing against it, but I knew that I wasn't about to do anything I would regret. That was a promise.

Annabeth laid next to me and did something I really didn't expect; she wrapped her arms around my neck, dropped her head on my chest, and cried. Heartbroken sobs. And all I could do was hold her.

**Just something for the people who reviewed; thanks! I'm still waiting for suggestions for the summary.**


	4. Chapter 4

**.:Still Breathing:.**

Written by: High Fiving Jesus

_Typed: December 30, 2010_

.:.: .:.:.:.:. :.:.

_Thwap!_

"Percy. Keep your guard up."

_Thwap!_

"Are you listening to me?"

_Thwap!_

"Annabeth, darn it, give me like _two freaking seconds_ before you try killing me, 'kay?"

We had trained since the rise of the sun, just trying to somewhat simulate what a quest would be like. I felt alone on the battlefield, useless and stranded, being forced towards something that would put a quick end to my life and she just kept coming, trying to get me to imitate my old skills.

My limbs were numb and my ribs should have ached from the constant pounding they had received from the flat of her blade. I could feel my body tremble, my hair pressed against my forehead. I could do this, I kept telling myself. Listen.

I breathed slowly, trying to adjust to my surroundings. I could still feel her hot tears on my chest wishing she were still in my arms, crying for the life of her, as if she had never seen hell and she was suddenly looking it in the eyes. I had seen the arena with my own eyes more times than I could count; I began to piece it together. The sun was caressing my bare back. The entrance had to be directly behind me, Annabeth at my front. She was the moving target.

I noticed her feet shuffling through the sand and clay on the arena floor. My left half tensed and my ear perked as her movement became violent and agitated. I couldn't decipher where her blade was coming from, though. I had no clue if she was coming down or for my side. With a split second decision I swung my sword in a wide arc, the blade pointing to the sky, and it hooked onto hers.

"Good," she managed. I followed the sound of her breathing, in and out, heavy, moving behind me.

Her feet shuffled and I couldn't decide which way she had turned. I fingered the handle of Riptide and waited. She was going too easy on me. I would be dead on the field in the matter of a heartbeat. She grunted and I ducked my head, the sword slicing through the air above me. The whistling sound had given her away.

My breathing was heavy and I felt myself getting nervous. I had gotten lucky twice already; now, she would push me.

She came at me in constant bursts, never relenting until my sword met the ground with an echoing clang. It hadn't taken long as I flinched with every move, my mind moving too fast. Her sword was pressed against my throat, forced to where, if it were possible, she would have drawn blood. I could feel her only a few inches away from me, her body just meeting mine. She sighed and drew away from me.

I ran my hand across my neck subconsciously.

"This won't work," she groaned and the sound of her blade slamming into the ground met my ears. I almost shrunk back, but restrained myself.

"Annabeth, calm down," I told her, missing the top of Riptide with the cap. The blade glided across my finger and sent a chill down my spine. Her hand covered mine and she guided me to the tip of the sword. Her fingers lingered over mine.

"Percy," she said, harsh and unsure. "If you can't fight, how can you go on a quest?"

"I was thinking I could be the distraction," I said nonchalantly, grabbing her fingers and pulling her closer to me. It was reassuring to know that there was something else, not just me, and that objects went beyond what I could see. Without feeling something, I hardly knew it existed. I felt I could breathe with her near me.

"No, Percy," she argued. "That's stupid."

"I'm known for being pretty stupid."

"Percy, stop," she pushed away from me and the cold, sinking feeling came back to me. I hated her constantly analyzing the situation, trying to make sure everything worked in her favor, trying to ensure what she had hoped for. She was trying to take control right now and I didn't want her to. When she took control, everything became serious and I was so _sick_ of being serious. I didn't want to be serious about anything, though I knew I needed to be.

"Why?" I challenged her. "I'm still me, Wise Girl."

"Don't you dare pull that card," she threatened. "Maybe we can talk to Chiron—"

"Annabeth," I ran my hands through my hair. "Please shut up."

"I will not," she sounded offended and taken back by my sudden request. I couldn't hold a smile as I said it, knowing she wouldn't expect what I was handing out. Her hand was suddenly squirming into mine and she began to drag me off, my face flushing for the first time in a while. "I want you off of the quest."

"But it's my quest," I argued, still trying to get over the new feeling of her hand in mine. It had been far too long of being away for me to say that I was used to it and it happened all of the time.

"Well, that can change," she assured. We passed under a high wall that blocked the sun for a moment and I assumed we had just left the arena.

I stumbled along behind her, praying that people weren't stopping to stare as she guided me towards what was almost certainly the Big House. I tried to listen to people's passing footsteps, but they never faltered. No one noticed. I was flushed with relief.

She stopped and spun on her heel, my almost colliding with her not bothering her a bit. "Stay here." Her hand released mine and she walked off, yelling out something about holding. After a few minutes of muffled whispers and others—louder—speaking, I prepared to follow.

"Draw," someone called out, loud and forcefully. My brows furrowed. "Ready? Fire!"

At once, something whizzed through the air, bristling. I felt the wind around me pick up speed as the object coursed passed me. With the sound of tearing paper, the noise was silenced. A whistle took its place and there was shuffling around from a cabin size of people.

"Archers approach the line! Clear down range," the voice cried. "Draw!"

I stumbled back, tripping over myself.

"Archers may nock and fire six arrows!"

The archery range. Of course, it was time for beginning archery class and Annabeth had pulled me right into the middle of it. I managed to stay on my feet as another volley was sent my way. The arrows whizzed past my head, not yet close enough to hit me, and met their mark. My heart was throbbing in my chest. Another volley was shot off with free reign.

I stood stone still in sheer terror, not knowing where to turn or who to turn to. My mind started seizing as I cursed myself; I was panicking witlessly. Annabeth would not have left me in the middle of the range to be shot at. And then another thought—even if I were hit, I wouldn't be harmed, less I were standing with my back to the archers. I would be fine if I could just relax.

Someone called out my name, but I was distant, far away, begging myself to just relax and be okay. Nothing was okay, sitting in the archery range. It was easy for beginners to slip up—heck, _I_ was in the class. If they missed—_I wouldn't be affected. Chill out. Now._

I swallowed whatever fears I had and looked to the sound of hooves, someone called the order, the arrows were held, and then a hand, warm and heavy, on my shoulder. "Now," Chiron's voice seemed to smile. "What seems to be the problem?"

A smaller hand was placed on my shoulder, willing themselves nearer to me. As if by some case of magic, my heart sank back into my chest and I could breathe as easily as a grown bird in flight. The thoughts of insecurity were replaced with warmth and I stood a little more comfortably. "Chiron, he can't fight."

"I assumed as much," his voice wasn't troubled at all. It was… indifferent, possibly.

"And you were going to send him on a quest?" Annabeth asked him incredulously, her grip on my shoulder tightening. Her thumb drew circles on my skin and I tried to picture them in my mind's eye, things that I had seen before. Where had I seen them? I couldn't place it. And then, she tapped her thumb once.

My mind started connecting the dots, literally and slowly, until I came to the only conclusion—unless just by chance. Letters.

_Coming over tonight._

I rubbed the back of my neck and tried to give a discrete nod, and it bothered me so much that I couldn't tell if Chiron had noticed. I wanted to know what everyone saw; I wanted to see reactions. I couldn't.

"Annabeth, dear," Chiron's voice soothed. "He was meant to go on the quest. I, however, never sent him to the Oracle."

"I don't…" she fumbled for the words, quietly letting her mind travel at a thousand miles an hour. A pretty face with gentle blonde curls and quizzical grey eyes entered my mind. It was the first time I hadn't made an attempt and remembered what something looked like, and it was absolutely dazzling.

"Annabeth, I'd like for you to lead the quest."

Crap.

**A/N: Yeah, remember that whole **_**I'm not letting Annabeth go on the quest**_** thing? Mhm. **

**It's been a long day. Did **_**not**_** look over this.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: To all my dear, sweet, lovingly faithful reviewers,**

**This story, effective immediately, unless decided otherwise, will be placed on HIATUS. I realize that this is against the rules, but I felt I owed you all an explanation and I hope you don't report, for this chapter will be deleted upon the continuation.**

**You may ask why I am suddenly holding off. If you would like to know, I'm writing what will probably escalade into a trilogy, but for now is a story that is like venting and revenge. **

**I know—wow, high fiving Jesus, that's really immature. When you read this story, it may help you understand, it may not.**

**My muse: my lying, but sweet, boyfriend. Humph, lying and sweet don't belong in the same sentence… Let's try this. My boyfriend's really sweet to me. However, he's a compulsive liar about what I consider to be important. Did I mention he broke a promise?**

**I bet you don't care, I wouldn't. But it's a heads up for a story that is consuming all of my thoughts. I would feel terrible writing a chapter that doesn't blend well with what's happened so far, and so I'm going to get this out of my system.**

**Thank you for your consideration and cooperation.**

**Seriously, **_**please**_** don't report because this message is only temporary.**

**My story: **_**Exposure**_**.**

**Rating: T**

**Characters: Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase**

**World: Books, AU (Alternate Universe)**

**Thanks again!**


	6. Chapter 6

**.:Still Breathing:.**

Written by: High Fiving Jesus

_Typed: February 26, 2011_

.:.: .:.:.:.:. :.:.

I didn't like to admit to the swell of a barrier in my throat.

I couldn't acknowledge the constriction in my chest—I wouldn't—and it was painfully obvious that Annabeth knew this, despite my attempts of disguising it. Yes, I was protesting, and _okay_, those protests emerged more as strangled whines from an infant—bite me. Through the trek to my cabin, the thought of her becoming my personal bodyguard became unbearable. I knew—I _knew_ somewhere in the crevices of my mind—that she didn't need to protect me from anything. I understood that my behavior was that of a… a _concerned parent_, but everything seemed numb and against my protests.

It was painfully obvious that I was yet again depending on someone else to keep me from stumbling over cliffs in the not so literal sense. And yet—

"Percy," she cursed and her hands met my chest, ensuring I stop in my tracks. "You have to calm down. You _have_ to."

"Why?" I demanded, aware of my abilities to annoy emerging. But, Hades, if no one started listening to me…

"Because I won't take you on this quest if you don't…" her voice may have been just above what could be counted as a whisper, making a horrible emphasize on every bristle of leaves or coo of a bird, yet the words were cold. A threat that I actually enjoyed hearing. Under other circumstances, I might have been slightly unnerved, dispirited; we went on every quest together, how could she… I pushed her limit.

"What makes you think I even want to go on a quest, huh?" I ignored the distance that statement carved. "I'd only get in the way; you know it. Don't be so stupid." I had no room to talk about stupidity; I was fairly decent in the makings of idiocy on more than one account and had proved it.

An irritated growl emerged from the back of her throat and I could feel her moving away from me again. It was all I could do; stand stock-still without a clue as to where to go. The feeling of being lost, the dread that was consuming every corner of my heart more frequently, constant anticipation of some miracle that I wasn't completely alone and—

Her fingers encircled my wrist and a low breath passed through her lips, or nose, I couldn't tell. "Sorry," she muttered vehemently. "Forgot." My feet moved automatically with hers, as if reliance was my second nature.

The way she lulled me into an automatic trail, dragged me towards my cabin like I was baggage rather than her desperately useless…ah, boyfriend, was eating away at me. I felt so… used, pointless, hollow, empty; a dull antique on a shelf that needed to be dusted off every few years and then left, more as a burden of some weird relative. The tips of her fingers dug into the veins of my arms, and though it left me unharmed, the gesture was so…

"Annabeth," I tried flatly. "That's my arm."

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" she asked evenly, her nails now embedded in my skin. I ignored the ferocity and delved into my thoughts, where she was content to be, because I'd be darned if she was going to hold any power over me. I wasn't exactly sure what led to the platonic essence of our relationship or why it had set in so out-of-the-blue, _viola_. I was sure that it had been less than ten minutes earlier that we had been routinely playing our hand in sword fighting, and yet she was ready to break every limb in my body. That small sliver of clever uniqueness in my mind was whispering.

_You enticed her, idiot._

And I had—

**Hold up, hold up, hold up. This story's crap.**

**-Sigh-**

**I do suppose something will have to be done about that, especially when I have planned nothing in advance and all of my past planning has been drained from my worn-out, strung-up brain. Could you not feel me completely dying as I wrote this? **

**Rewriting, and if you care to even glimpse at whatever this story—and whenever—will become and return to the site, you'll wait.**

**And maybe you'll be disappointed; maybe it will be marvelous.**

**I can feel something breaking as I'm telling you this—I'm such a loser for dropping before any action has begun, but I can't just sit here and allow you to hold your breath for some sniveling worm like myself. I won't, and so I must sink back into the deepest corners of my mind and try to understand what will happen.**

**I beg that you hate me so that I know you're human.**


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